


Natal Day

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [462]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:52:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: preludeinz asked for: the brotp vs the joint birthday party!





	Natal Day

John was born late June.  Lady Penelope graced the world with her presence in early July, just as the summer blooms were at their brightest.

Twenty-one years later, and their combined party was the hottest ticket on campus.

It was always held on the Saturday closest to equidistant between the two dates, and it was always  _spectacular._ This year, the lucky few received a black envelope with a single black card, heavy weight and with a fine linen weave.

Moffie was the one who had the inspired idea to flash a blacklight across its inscrutable surface, but it was Penny’s friend Alice who realized it was a Caesar cipher slashed in black on black.

Messages flashed back and forth across campus as the brightest minds of their generation bent to the task of decoding before the deadline that they all had circled on their calendars for month.

The allotted hour on the allotted came with treacly suddenness.  Moffie nodded at the familiar faces on the street as they converged on the GPS coordinates, feeling the thrill of being in on the secret.

She was glad she had the foresight to stuff a blacklight torch into her chic purse, as appropriate to the assigned dress code as the rest of her outfit, if they had decoded that message correctly.  The sigil daubed on the cracked brickwork marked out one steel-reinforced door among all the others in the dark alley they had found themselves in.

Inside, a blank-faced man be-suited in the uniform of a classic barroom heavy checked their invitations before nodding them down steep, dimly lit stairs.

Moffie wasn’t the only one to gasp at the speakeasy, light by sparkling fairy lights.  Waiters dressed like flappers circulated with trays loaded with drinks, and swing music was being mixed by a DJ up by the stage.

Moffie stole a glass of champagne – excellent, as it always was when Penny was involved – and pushed through the thickening crowd of amazing outfits towards where the man and woman of the hour were holding court like Mafia bosses in lounges overlooking their temporary club.

Penny’s dress was shimmery and sparkling silver as she laughed at some joke whispered in her ear by John, dapper and suave in an immaculately cut dark suit.  Moffie patted her hair, making sure the UK weather hadn’t undone her awkwardly managed coif, and pushed closer.

John rose to greet her, saluting a kiss on her cheeks that had Moffie smiling as Penny cheered and waved.  “How drunk is she?” she laughingly asked John

“It’s our birthday,” John said, his cheeks rosy in the dark light.  “Come, Miss Moffie, drink with us.”

“It’s our birthday,” Penny whispered loudly, refilling all the glasses on the table.

Moffie raised her champagne flute.  “To the birthday boy and girl.”

“To shenanigans,” John replied.

“And debauchery,” Penny added draping herself on John’s arm as their glasses clinked.


End file.
